


baby, i like it

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes.” Louis nods, crisp. “You said footie was easy, that it was just kicking a ball around. Balls can be difficult to handle,” he says with a wink.</p><p>Nick doesn’t laugh. He coughs, and hides it into his hand. That’s not a laugh, no matter what Louis’ smug look seems to be hinting. “I stand by it,” he says.</p><p>Louis’ jaw drops. “That’s it,” he says. “Let’s go play, now.”</p><p>Nick laughs, outright. “No!”</p><p>“Why not?” Louis asks, leaning close enough that Nick could kiss him, if he wanted. Good thing he definitely doesn’t want to, no matter how nice Louis’ hair might look. “Afraid you’ll lose to a child?”</p><p>And that’s how Nick ends up outside in the freezing fall weather without a proper jacket, Louis kicking a football at him again and again.</p><p> </p><p>(nick is louis' teacher, but that doesn't stop him wanting.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby, i like it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [takhallus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takhallus/gifts).



> so this is my first time writing tomlinshaw and i hope it turned out ok? their dynamic is the MOST IMPORTANT, so. 
> 
> warnings: okay, this is student/teacher, so there's some underage stuff going on, as well as nick thinking he's the worst for wanting to shag his student. 
> 
> thank you, THANK YOU to 23tomlinson for reading it over. you're amazing and you helped SO MUCH with this fic. :) you're an angel. ♥
> 
> and takhallus, you asked for student/teacher--i hope you like it. :)

“Mr. Tomlinson, do you actually know the answer or are you just trying to get some energy out?” Nick asks, raising an eyebrow and leaning against his desk.

Louis’ eyebrows are raised, his feet crossed at the ankles, hand waving in the air. He’d be a model of the perfect student, but Nick knows him. The idiot’s been in Nick’s classes for four years now. (He should possibly feel guilty about calling a student an idiot, but he’s heard the horrible things teachers have said about other students, and anyway it’s not that he thinks Louis is dumb. He just doesn’t apply himself, and a thousand other teacher cliches.)

Louis doesn’t answer.

Because Nick’s an idiot, he nods at him. “Yes, Tomlinson?”

Next to Louis, Harry snorts.

Fuck.

“I forgot my homework at home,” Louis says, slow, “and, I mean, my dog ate it.” He grins, and winks.

Nick doesn’t smile. He can feel it, threatening its way out, but he covers it with a cough and crosses his arms. “Oh, is that so?”

Louis leans forward. “But I think you’ve got something wrong. You wrote 2.12 on the board, but shouldn’t it be 3.6?”

“Nah,” Nick says, but he frowns, looking up at the board. “Or--apparently you’re right. Thank you.” He fixes the mistake, and he knows this is going to go badly for him.

There are a few titters throughout the class (Harry reaches over and squeezes Louis’ shoulder, and Nick wonders not for the first time what is with those two), but Louis doesn’t respond, just sits back in his chair with a nod. He’s relatively silent for the rest of class, which is worrying. Nick had fallen for that, back when Louis was a freshman and he was naive. He’d gotten honey all over the back of his trousers, that way.

Arsehole.

Again, he should probably feel guilty calling a student an arsehole, but honey on his trousers. He’d walked around all day smelling sickly sweet and sticking to things, even after he’d tried to wash them.

Louis comes up to him at the end of class, after everyone else has gone. Nick grimaces. “Yes, Tomlinson?”

“I’ll take your job anytime,” Louis says, all easy.

Nick stares up at him. “What?”

“You got the answer wrong.” Louis grins. “Clearly it’s all that hairspray, killing your brain cells. You’re getting soft, old man.  Young Mr. Grimshaw wouldn’t have let a mistake like that slip by.”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Have you finished, then?” he asks. God, he’s irritating.

Louis is grinning, shouldering his backpack and winking at Nick again. Fuck everything. “See you tomorrow, Grimmy,” and he’s out of the room before Nick can yell at him again for the unflattering nickname.

He puts his head down on his desk. He doesn’t scream, but it’s a close thing.

 

The next day, Nick steels himself. He’s ready for Louis to be a shithead, remind the class of the day before, be absolutely obnoxious, but again he’s quiet. He scribbles in his notebook, and when Nick walks around he can see that it’s decidedly not maths, but you can’t have everything.

Harry, next to him, is drawing what appears to be a comic about a bunch of… bananas? God. Those two.  

Regardless, Nick chalks it up as a win.

He chalks it up as a win, that is, until he opens his bag and a bunch of ping-pong balls fall out of it. Nick’s no idea how they got in there without him noticing, or how he didn’t see them until he was in the hallway, but there’s got to be at least fifty of them bouncing around now.

Luckily, it’s the end of the day and there are only a few students left. Louis isn’t one of them.

Nick presses his lips together. Were he younger, less responsible, he would leave it for the janitor to clean up, but Ian’s a nice guy. He sighs, a heavy thing, and bends down to pick at least most of them up, the ones that haven’t rolled away to hallways unseen.

He’s got them all back in his bag (because all of the trash cans are full, of course) when he sees a piece of paper sticking out of his front pocket.

There’s no easily discernible writing, only a heart with a winky face next to it.

Nick sighs out again (feels like he’s always doing that when Louis is involved) and crumples it up, getting up and shouldering his bag again. He nearly throws it away when he gets to the front doors, but at the last second pockets it instead.

He doesn’t let himself think about his reasons for keeping it, or the fact that the stupid, stupid prank (if he can call it that--Louis wasn’t even there to see it) makes him want to smile like an absolute idiot.

He cranks up his music, far too loud, and drives home without thinking of anything.

 

Louis drops a ping-pong ball onto Nick’s desk, the next day. It bounces once, twice, and then Nick stops it. He doesn’t want the other students to hear; it’s after class, but there are about ten left, boys flirting and girls rolling their eyes. He doesn’t know how he’d explain it to Big Boss Ben (he, uh, put a bunch of… ping pong balls… in my bag, and I didn’t rat him out because--well, he doesn’t know why, not beyond the way he can’t keep himself from smiling around him).

He’s not angry, really, but he still tries to look as sternly as possible at Louis. “That wasn’t funny, Tomlinson.”

“You’re in trouble now,” a blonde kid, Niall, whispers to Louis, cackling.

Nick doesn’t smile. He doesn’t. Not at all.

Louis, for his part, is fighting a grin of his own. He bites his lip, sliding his hands around his backpack straps. “I dunno, I thought it was pretty funny.”

Nick shakes his head.

Louis smirks. “Surprised you didn’t get me in trouble.”

“Disappointed?” Nick asks, raising an eyebrow. “I can still talk to Cooper, if you like. Get you detention or something.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Louis is still smiling, the fucker. “Wouldn’t want you to have your ego bruised again, Grimmy.”

Fuck, Nick hates him. That’s absolutely why his heart’s beating a little bit harder, not because of how fucking pretty Louis looks. “Are you done?” he asks. It’s only three but he’d like to get home, thanks.

Louis frowns. “You alright?”

Nick maybe sort of a little bit wants to kiss him. It’s fine. “I’m fine,” he says. “I just don’t appreciate, you know, that.”

Louis giggles, giggles. Fucker, Nick thinks again. “It was funny, though.”

“How’d you know?” Nick snaps. “You weren’t there.”

Louis winks.

“Oh, god.” Nick groans. Tomlinson saw him on his hands and knees picking up dozens of ping-pong balls.

Louis’ grin widens. “Anyway, you deserved it!” he insists.

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Did I?’

“Yes.” Louis nods, crisp. “You said footie was easy, that it was just kicking a ball around. Balls can be difficult to handle,” he says with a wink.

Nick doesn’t laugh. He coughs, and hides it into his hand. That’s not a laugh, no matter what Louis’ smug look seems to be hinting. “I stand by it,” he says.

Louis’ jaw drops. “That’s it,” he says. “Let’s go play, now.”

Nick laughs, outright. “No!”

“Why not?” Louis asks, leaning close enough that Nick could kiss him, if he wanted. Good thing he definitely doesn’t want to, no matter how nice Louis’ hair might look. “Afraid you’ll lose to a child?”

And that’s how Nick ends up outside in the freezing fall weather without a proper jacket, Louis kicking a football at him again and again.

He makes it, every time, because Nick is freezing and anyway--”You have the easy part!” Nick shouts, arms crossed. He’s aware he sounds like a child, but he’s playing against a child, so. “You just have to kick it. My job is way tougher.”

Louis has the ball in his arms, one hip cocked. “Oh?” he says. “Fine.” He throws it at Nick, biting his lip. “Let’s switch, then.”

“What? No!” Nick says. “This was your stupid idea.”

“And this is my new stupid idea.” Louis gets into the goal and pushes Nick out, clapping his hands together. “Come on. Try your best. I’ll go easy on you.”

Nick doesn’t make any of them.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Louis says, when they’re walking away from the pitch. He hits his hip against Nick’s. “You tried your best! You’re just not as good as me.”

Nick walks faster. “Don’t touch me, please.”

He can hear the arsehole laughing in the background.

“Next Friday?” Louis asks, when they’re at the doors of the school. “You can redeem yourself. I’ll give you some tips.” He almost sounds flirty, with his eyebrow up and his hip cocked, but--nope. Nick’s not wondering if a teenager is flirting with him.

And he’s irritated, but he can’t say he didn’t have fun. He side-eyes Louis.

“Please?” Louis says. “I had a good time.”

Nick’s a sucker for a cute guy saying please. Not that he--whatever. “Fine,” he says.

Louis smiles. For once, it looks genuine.

Nick gets to his car and his phone beeps. He frowns. There’s a text from a number he doesn’t recognize. _if you ever need more practice, though, just ask me ;)_

And then another: _this isn’t louis, if you were wondering._

Nick rolls his eyes. He can’t say what makes him do it, but he saves the number. He’ll never use it; he’s not even sure he’ll play next week with him. He’s a teacher, after all, and Louis is a student of his. He can’t really justify spending this much time--any time, really--with him outside of class.

Then there’s another text: _stop thinking this is inappropriate. you’re still a twat. im just teaching you how to play football so youll stop being such a knob about it._

Nick doesn’t respond, but he can’t keep the smile off of his face.

 

*

 

The next Friday, Nick brings a jacket with him. Louis hasn’t acted any differently in class; Nick’s not even sure he’ll want to go, this week. He brings it regardless, because he doesn’t want another day of freezing his balls off while Louis creams him at footie.

Not that he’ll get creamed this time. He’s been practicing. (Just in his backyard, and with only Puppy to cheer him on, but still.)

A girl named Cara comes up to Nick after class, asking about her last test, and he helps her as quickly as possible while still helping; he’s hyperaware of Louis, lingering at the back of class, reorganizing things in his backpack over and over.

“Thanks so much, Mr. Grimshaw,” she says with a grin and a little wave.

He nods at her. It’s not a moment before Louis’ at his desk, decked out in a hoodie and trackies. He grins at Nick, smug but with a hint of almost worry underneath. “We gonna play?”

Nick doesn’t smile back. This is nauseating enough as it is. “Yeah,” he says, feeling a little awkward now that class is over. He gets his things together, raises an eyebrow at Louis. “You’re going down,” he says.

Louis just laughs, running ahead of him outside the school.

Nick shakes his head, and follows.

 

*

 

It becomes a weird, proper thing. They play on Fridays, and they don’t text each other. Nick’s going to delete Louis’ number, but he can’t bring himself to actually do it. At some point Louis added a picture of himself sticking out his tongue, and Nick feels a wave of fondness every time he looks at it (which isn’t often, he swears).

Nick doesn’t get much better; he begins to be able to block, but his aim is shit. Louis tries offering “encouragements” (“If you can walk you can fucking kick a ball, what the shit is that?!”) but after a while they end up just kicking it back and forth, not talking, just being.

When the fall turns into winter, the sky darkens early and Nick loses track of time on those Fridays. That’s how it happens that it’s ten o’clock when he looks at his phone, frowning.

“Does your mum know where you are?” he asks, hands on his hips. “How’d she feel knowing you’re out playing footie with your old teacher?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “She doesn’t care,” he says, and Nick (to his irritation) doesn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he’s lying. “And what about you? Your wife know where you are?”

Nick rolls his eyes right back, adding a stuck-out tongue. He doesn’t fuck around. “It’d be a husband, regardless, and I’ve not got one of those either.”

He goes to kick the ball, but Louis is just staring at him, face unreadable.

“What?” Nick asks.

“Why not?”

“Why not what?” There’s a hint of desperation in Nick’s voice; god, he can’t stand teenagers and the way they take fucking forever to get to the point.

Louis shrugs. “Why don’t you have a husband? I mean--you’re, you know. Well fit.” He blushes as soon as he’s said it, keeping his eyes on the ground.

Nick coughs. He can’t figure out if he should let it go or thank him. “I. Thank you?” he offers, along with a kick to the ball. Louis thinks he’s fit. He tries not to be pleased by it (god, he’s seventeen).

Thankfully, Louis just nods, and they don’t really talk for the next few minutes.

“I should really get home,” Louis says, looking up at him. “I’ll walk.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “It’s nearly eleven and it’s freezing, come on. I’ll give you a ride.”

Louis frowns. “Really?”

“Yes, Tomlinson,” Nick says. He walks toward Louis, grabbing him by the arm because it doesn’t look like Louis is going to move anytime soon. “Let’s go.”

Louis follows, and they end up in Nick’s car, the radio for once turned off, the heat on full. Louis doesn’t speak much, other than to give Nick his address.

Nick stops in his driveway, half-grinning at Louis. “See you next week,” he says.

Louis nods. “See you. Thanks, Nick.”

And he gets out of Nick’s car, running up to his porch before Nick registers what Louis called him.

It’s only after he’s pulled out of the driveway that he realizes, Louis’ left his football. He rolls his eyes and without thinking about it, pulls out his phone to text him a picture of it.

i’m holding this hostage until you teach me how to do that knee bouncing thing.

His phone chimes, but he waits until he’s home to read it.

its not something that can be taught. you either have the skill or you dont.

Nick grins. looks like i’m keeping it, then.

twat.

He doesn’t respond, but he falls asleep thinking about Louis.

(He dreams about kissing him and wakes up with an ache in his chest he doesn’t know how to get rid of.)

 

*

 

Louis doesn’t mention it until next Friday. He walks up to Nick, arms crossed, and the students aren’t even out of the room, god. “Give it.”

Nick raises an eyebrow, still in teacher mode. “Give what?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re such a twat. If I teach you how to do it, will you give it back?”

Nick laughs. “Didn’t know it was that important. Aw, is Tomlinson getting sentimental?”

“Such a twat,” Louis says as the last of the students file out. Nick grabs his bag and follows him out of the room, still not walking too close. “I’m not sentimental, I just don’t think stealing is good. Neither’s blackmail.”

Nick snorts. “Neither’s talking to your teacher like he’s a child.”

“You stole my ball,” Louis says, petulant.

Nick can’t keep in the giggle at that, and he pulls it out of his bag, tossing it at Louis. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Louis says, primly.

Nick starts full-on laughing at him, in his winter jacket that’s obviously too big for him. “You look like an idiot,” he says.

“It’s cold,” Louis snaps.

And then it starts snowing.

Nick frowns up at the sky. He feels weird, but it’s not like they can really play in the snow. He casts around his brain for something else they can do, but everything that comes it mind is stupidly date-like. (So’s the rest of their relationship, but that’s all been Louis’ idea. Plausible deniability on Nick’s end; so he wants to kiss his student, no one has to know.)

“I can give you a ride home?” he offers. It comes out small, and sad. He’s never been any good at hiding his emotions.

Louis shrugs, wrinkling his nose. “Don’t really want to go home. We could, er.” He frowns. “Go out for tea?”

The offer makes something warm and small bloom in Nick’s chest. “Only if I can get coffee,” he teases.

Louis rolls his eyes, but he already looks less tense than he had before. “Honestly,” he says. “I dunno why I put up with you. You’ve got terrible taste in everything.”

Nick just laughs, and leads Louis to his car.

 

*

 

Louis actually talks this time, which is better for Nick’s sanity. When they get to the cafe, a place near Nick’s flat, it’s proper blizzarding.

Nick frowns at Louis. “This may be a bad idea.”

“Nah,” Louis says. He rubs his hands together, raising his eyebrows at Nick. “We can make it. It’ll be freezing, but we can make it.”

Nick laughs. He’s possibly never wanted to kiss someone as much as Louis, looking at him with wide eyes, giving him a pep talk about going into the snow. “We can?” he asks.

Louis puts his hand over Nick’s, where it’s resting on the gearshift. Nick swallows hard, heart thumping almost painfully in his chest. “We can,” he promises, low.

Nick makes himself look away, turn off the car, and he nods. “Let’s go.”

Despite Louis’ promises, and the fact that they both run inside, they’re covered in snow when they get inside. Nick shakes out his hair, frowning; the snow’s brought down his quiff.

“Shove it, you look fine,” Louis says, stamping out his boots. He pauses, a moment later, looking up at Nick like he’s scared someone’s going to hit him.

Nick thinks he gets what’s going on here; he knows that look, knows the little comments that mean more than they should. He recognizes a lot of himself at 17, in Louis.

He doesn’t comment on it, just half-grins at Louis and finishes shaking out his hair. “What’ll you have, then?” he asks.

Louis snorts. “I can pay for myself.”

Nick shrugs. “Whatever you want.” It’s probably for the best that Louis pays; Nick doesn’t want either of them to get thinking this is a date.

It’s not. It’s two people who are sort of friends despite an age difference and the fact that one of them is the teacher of the other, hanging out at a coffeeshop because they can’t play football due to the rain.

Nick inwardly groans. It sounds like the plot of some cheesy romance novel.

Sometimes (mostly when Louis is involved, if he’s being honest) he hates his life.

They sit in a little booth in the back, Louis with his tea that smells like death and Nick with his coffee, black.

Louis frowns at the cup. “That looks terrible.”

“At least I’m not drinking leaf water,” Nick says, prim, taking a sip.

Louis levels him with a look. “You’re drinking bean water. Infinitely worse.”

Nick snorts, and some of the coffee gets up his nose. He doesn’t mind, though, because Louis gives him a smile that’s soft and fond and Nick is in so far over his head. He maybe wants to do more than kiss Louis, wants to cuddle him. Fuck.

They drink slowly, and slowly Nick’s feet start to warm up. He slides his shoes off and tucks his toes under himself. Ah. Much better.

Louis wrinkles his nose, looking under the table. “God. You’re way too tall to do that. You look like a giraffe.”

Nick snorts. “Arsehole.”

It’s nothing he hasn’t said before (he’s never been good at not insulting people) but Louis grins like Nick’s said something nice. “So,” he says, pointing at Nick. “Why are you single?”

“I’m sorry?” Nick says.

Louis shrugs. “Trying to make conversation.” He says it lightly, but there’s a heavy tone to his words.

Nick recognizes that, too. “You could start with something smaller,” he says, though, because he doesn’t want to get into it, not with a teenager who’ll more than likely use it against him.

Louis nods. “Fine, then. Do you have any siblings?”

Nick grins. “Two, both older. They--”

“There are people older than you?” Louis asks, a smile on his lips. “Imagine that. You’re ancient.”

Nick snorts. He doesn’t reach out and grab Louis’ hand, though it’s a close thing. “And what about you?” he asks, ignoring Louis’ ‘insult’. “Siblings?”

“I’ve got five sisters,” Louis says, “all younger. And two more on the way, though hopefully another boy.”

Nick’s eyes widen. “How the fuck d’you manage that?”

Louis snorts. “Lots of babysitting and practice at putting hair into plaits,” he says, shrugging.

Nick’s fondness for Louis is almost uncontrollable. He presses his lips together, trying not to grin at him. “Tell me about them,” he says.

Louis frowns. “No, this is supposed to be about getting to know you,” he says.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean.” Louis flushes, looking down. He plays with the sugar on the table, making it into a bunch of shapes. “It’s awkward in class, you know? Like, I consider us friends? I think?”

Nick nods, leaning forward. Friends, yeah. He can pretend he’s never thought about blowing Louis.

“But in class we’re the same and I just--I dunno. I want to know more about you.” Louis looks up at him, biting his lip. “Is that weird?”

Nick grins. “Nah, babe. Not weird at all.” It is, possibly, but this whole situation is fucked. Louis is graduating in a semester, anyway; if it is weird, it’ll only be that way for a little while longer.

“So tell me,” Louis says, “why are you single?”

Nick, because he is an incredibly irresponsible adult, indulges him. “I’m not good at feelings,” he says. “I’m really… self-centered, sometimes, and that sounds like an excuse but it’s just the truth. I forget about people. I like having a bed to myself.” He shrugs, feeling on-the-spot with the way Louis is looking at him. “A lot of different things, I guess.”

Louis just looks at him, eyes wide.

Nick smiles. “Anything else?”

Louis nods. “What’s it like, being…” He clears his throat.

“Gay?” Nick asks. He doesn’t want to drag it out of Louis.

Louis sucks in his cheeks, looks at the pile of sugar again.

Nick swallows hard against the barrage of insults threatening to escape, borne of years of arseholes asking the same thing. He knows what Louis isn’t saying, knows because he can imagine himself at that age (god, more than ten years ago, Louis is so young, Nick shouldn’t want to--fuck) sitting across from his friend’s friend, a guy named Gary. “What do you want to know?” he asks. “I pay taxes, I have a dog, I date men sometimes. Not much different than anyone else’s life.”

Louis frowns. “Really?” he asks, skepticism dripping from his words. “Because it seems like--god, like everyone hates you if you’re not straight.”

Nick presses his lips together and reaches out to grab Louis’ hand, squeeze it tight. He’s just being comforting, he thinks, pretending he can’t feel his face heat up, that he doesn’t want to grab Louis and kiss him hard for everyone who’s made him feel like shit for something he’s not said out loud. “Not everyone,” he says. “Some people, yeah, but at the end of the day you have someone you love, who loves you, and that makes it okay.”

“It gets better,” Louis says in a mocking voice.

Nick shakes his head. “Not in some bullshit internet YouTube way. There are people lobbying against you, and you might not get to marry the person, and you’ll get dirty looks. But let me tell you a secret,” he says, leaning forward.

Louis leans in, too, seemingly transfixed.

“There are a lot less horrible people in the real world than there are in school,” Nick says. “Even on my end.”

Louis is staring at him like Nick’s given him the world.

It’s a lot, honestly.

“Really?” Louis asks. “But, I mean--” He cuts himself off, pulling his hands away. “What about family?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s say,” and Louis is looking at him from under his fringe now, all shy, “you’ve got some sisters and they look up to you, yeah, and you’ve got to tell them that you’re a, you know, f--”

“That you like men?” Nick interrupts.

Louis nods.

“They’ll still love you,” Nick says. “I promise. Lottie and Fizz and Daisy and Phoebe, they’ll adore you no matter who you want to kiss.”

Louis bites his lip.

“At the end of the day, you’re most important,” Nick says. It sounds like a cliche but he needs Louis to know it. “Family, friends, arseholes--when you get down to it, it ends up being all right because you’re the most important person, and you learn to recognize that. It’s not selfish to love anyone, Louis,” and he’s hyperaware of the fact that Louis is breathing more quickly, sitting up straighter. “Not at all.”

Louis nods. “So if I were, you know. That wouldn’t.” He twists his mouth. “I’d still.”

Nick nods. He can hear the unspoken words. “You’d still. People would still care about you.” I’d still care about you, he thinks, because he’s a sap.

Louis nods. “Thank you,” he says.

He hasn’t said it, but Nick’ll give him time. He knows what it’s like.

Outside, the snow is slowing, the sky turning pink and purple, darkening. Nick kicks Louis under the table, wincing at the feeling coming back into his legs. “Let’s get you home,” he says.

Louis makes a face but nods, standing up himself, pulling on his jacket. He’s adorable.

When they get into the car, Nick reaches out and squeezes Louis’ shoulder. There are so many things he wants to say on his tongue, but what he says is, “It’ll be okay,” which sounds to him like a meaningless platitude.

Louis looks at him like before, though, like Nick’s given him everything by saying it, and he can’t stop his chest from tightening.

He leans in and kisses Louis’ cheek when they get to his house, pulling away too quickly. He holds onto the steering wheel, just nodding when Louis says, “Bye,” almost a question.

When he gets home, there’s a text from Louis. It says, you don’t have to feel weird about kissing me.

Nick shakes his head, tossing his phone to the side, and lies down on his bed.

He dreams about kissing Louis, holding him down against a bed and feeling all of him, finally.

He wakes up, and he thinks that he might.

He doesn’t respond, though, has no idea what he’d say if he did.

 

The next Friday, Louis doesn’t try to talk to Nick, just leaves without looking at him.

Nick tries not to feel stung. Louis is a teenager, after all, and he shouldn’t have been thinking about doing anything at all.

That night he opens his phone, wanting to say something to Louis, but he thinks better of it. He tosses it aside and cuddles Puppy, heart too heavy to think.

 

“Tomlinson!” Nick snaps.

Louis has been bratty all day, not taking a notebook out, and now he’s texting, giggling with the guy next to him, a kid with curly hair aptly named Harry. He looks up, now, raising an eyebrow in a way Nick recognizes. Fuck. “Yes, Mr. Grimshaw?” he asks.

Damn the fact that Nick works in a school, and his apparent thing for being called Mr. Grimshaw. “Pay attention,” he says.

Louis rolls his eyes but shuts up.

 

Nick’s phone rings, waking him up. He grapples for it in the dark, groaning. “‘lo?” he says into the phone.

“It’s Louis.” He sounds panicky, voice high. “Uh. Can you help me?”

“Mmph. What’s goin’on?” Nick asks, yawning. He’s worried about Louis, yeah, but it’s two in the fucking morning.

“I went out and I drank a little and I just woke up and I don’t know where I am,” Louis whispers. “I’m in this little cafe now and I just. Can you come get me?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Nick says around a yawn. “Where are you?”

Louis gives him the address.

“I’ll be there in ten,” Nick promises.

 

Louis is waiting outside when Nick gets there, arms wrapped around himself.

“Where’s your jacket?” Nick asks, opening the door for him. He presses his lips together in a thin line. God, he didn’t know it was possible to want to shag someone this much and still feel this responsibility for them. God.

Louis shakes his head. “Dunno.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“Could you just,” Louis clears his throat, “drive around a little while? Don’t want to see my Mum right now.”

Nick nods, and, because it’s two in the morning, reaches out and grabs Louis’ knee. He’s going to move his hand, but Louis sucks in a sharp breath and he doesn’t.

It takes a few minutes but Louis tells him what happened, bit by bit; how the party was with his friend Harry, but they got into a fight, and Louis hadn’t drunk that much but people were being shits so he fell asleep, and he he’s not sure where the house was and Harry wasn’t picking up his phone.

“I fucked up,” he says, sighing out hard.

Nick nods. “You did.”

“And I’ve been avoiding you.”

Nick nods again. “You have been.”

Louis bites his lip. “Can you look at me?”

Nick pulls to the side of the road, looking at him properly. Louis’ face, in the moonlight, looks gaunt, face thin and scared.

He’s still so, so beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says.

Nick kisses him.

It’s not really a predetermined thing, the kiss, but when he starts he can’t stop. Louis gets into it right away, grabbing Nick’s arms and pulling him close, moaning into his mouth.

Nick pulls back, rests his forehead against Louis’. “This is not a good idea,” he says.

“Yes, yes it is,” Louis breathes. “A very good idea. The best.” He moves to Nick’s neck, biting, soft.

“Fuck,” Nick breathes out, tilting his head up. He’s going to hell. “You’re not even eighteen.”

Louis shrugs, kissing across Nick’s collarbones. “Yeah, so.”

Nick groans.

Louis pulls back. “I mean. Unless you don’t want me?” He looks so small, so vulnerable.

Nick can’t help the honesty that comes out. “God, Louis, I’ve wanted you forever.”

Louis grins. “You called me Louis.”

Nick nods.

Louis kisses him, this time. Nick tries to keep it gentle, but Louis bites his lip, and Nick moans, and then it’s all heated panting and hands trying to touch all of each other at once.

Louis swings a leg over Nick’s lap and leans back, and the horn blares, sudden and loud.

Nick giggles, and after a shocked moment so does Louis, resting his forehead against Nick’s.

“Just so you know,” Louis says, “that wasn’t my, um. First kiss with a boy.”

Nick grins. “I know.” He kisses across Louis’ neck now, hands resting on Louis’ hips. “I know, darling.”

Louis sucks in a breath. “You know,”  he says, leaning back, and he doesn’t hit the horn this time, “my mum thinks I’m at Harry’s tonight. If you wanted, we could…” He trails off, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Nick says. “Presumptuous, aren’t we?”

“Is that bad?” Louis asks, biting his lip.

Nick grins. “Not at all.” He pushes Louis to the side a bit, starting the car again. God. Straight to fucking hell.

Louis is visibly hard in his jeans, though, and he keeps giving Louis these desperate looks, like he’s overwhelmed, and that’s the hottest thing Nick’s ever seen. He’s got so much to teach him (and he snorts at the pun, pressing it against Louis’ shoulder).

“Let’s go, babe,” he says, kissing Louis’ knuckles.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr at guillotineheart and twitter at doinwhatwedo :)))


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